


A Long Time Coming

by bubblebucky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Heaven, Hurt Sam, M/M, Protective Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:45:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebucky/pseuds/bubblebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was blood everywhere. On his clothes, on the ground, and weeping from the deep slashes in his chest. </p><p>Sam Winchester was ready to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Time Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of just a short whatchamacallit thing that I pooped out from a prompt for my friend Dylan, also known as PuppyQueenandKittenOverlord on fanfiction.net.

There was blood everywhere.

It was weeping from the slashes on his chest and pooling on the concrete beneath him with damning speed. His heart, beating quickly, trying to compensate for the blood it's losing but really just destroying itself faster, was ripped--Sam was surprised he lasted long enough for Dean to call Gabriel. But there he was, face a picture of horror as he stared down at Sam's twitching body.

Dean was shouting, "Do something! Save him!" And his green eyes were wild as he shoved at the archangel.

Gabriel schooled his face, but Sam was no fool. He could see the fear in those amber eyes as the Angel of Judgment kneeled beside him, and laid a hand on his chest.

Sam knew that everything he'd been through fucked him up. He knew that his soul was mangled, that his mind was incinerated, and that his body was uninhabitable for all but one angel that he locked away what felt like millennia ago. And Gabriel knew it, too. They both knew that there was no saving Sam from this. The ties his soul had to his body were already so weak, so abused--it couldn't handle this much trauma.

Hazel met gold in a flash of understanding, and Gabriel was speaking, though Sam could hardly hear it, like they were standing miles apart, "He--There's--I can't heal him."

Dean was shouting back, and Sam could tell he was upset, but he was only catching snatches, now, "brother," and "werewolf," and "please, Gabriel, anything."

And Sam could already see a tall, pale figure, looking over Gabriel's shoulder with his thin brows raised, and there was a sense of peace and warmth that Sam had only ever associated with the prospect of death, but then he was suddenly ripped away, his peace gone, his warmth now sweaty heat as he jackknifed into a seated position--

\--and promptly hit his head on the ceiling, causing a shower of dust to fall on him like a baptism of being too fucking tall as he rubbed his aching head, and, wait, what just happened?

"Get up, Potter! We're going to the zoo!" Another round of dust and maybe a spider or three rained down on Sam, and he looked around, confused, until he located the tiny door to his right and started to push it open with caution--until footsteps sounded down the hall and someone pushed the door back shut, slamming him back into the room. He emerged seconds later, more annoyed than actually on-guard, and glanced back to wonder how on earth he managed to get into that cupboard under the stairs.

"What the hell is going on?" He groaned, rubbing his head.

There were voices coming from the room just ahead of him, a high-pitched voice crooning, "Here he comes, the birthday boy!" And a lower, nasally one booming, "Happy birthday, son."

Sam was a hunter, and that meant he was always prepared, but, admittedly, he was a little surprised to enter some tiny--normal--kitchen and immediately have a pan full of already-sizzling bacon thrust upon him and be ordered to cook.

"What?" He sputtered, and a man, lounging at the table with no neck and rubbery skin, turned two porky eyes to him and glared.

"Bring my coffee, boy," He commanded, and Sam easily matched it to the booming voice he heard earlier. Also, he noticed suddenly, they were all British. Sam nearly found that more confusing than how he ended up there in the first place.

"I--what?" Sam asked again, not really understanding what the hell was going on, before something clicked. God, he was in Harry Potter. A geeky, deeply-buried part of him felt a rush of excitement, but the rest was all dread, because damn if this whole situation didn't feel familiar. But from that, instinct took over; he needed to play his role, right? "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

And the scene continued flawlessly, save a few mishaps that came from Sam only ever reading the books. There was something in his brain missing, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but otherwise, he was doing okay.

The scene shifted, and he was in another house--this one even smaller than the previous one--and an old grey wizard who he immediately recognized as Gandalf was demanding, "Now don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee," and Sam was responding on instinct, "I don't mean to."

The scenes that followed were much the same, all gravitating to the sort of nerdiness that Sam had loved all his life; there were scenes from Star Trek, Game of Thrones, Ghost Busters, Star Wars, and a few of the soaps that someone--there was an irritating niggling in the back of his brain that itched like steel wool--liked making him watch over the years.

It was in the middle of a Die Hard scene that he suddenly remembered.

"You just killed a helicopter with a car!" Matt Farrell said breathlessly, kneeling next to where Sam lay panting.

"I was out of bullets," Sam said, then a shock of déjà vu hit him, along with old memories of sitting in front of motel room televisions and watching John McClean blow shit up and eating cereal with--"Dean."

"What?" Matt asked, dirty faced twisted with confusion, and Sam twisted to face him.

"Dean," He repeated, then, "Oh man. The werewolf. _Gabriel_."

And suddenly the scene shifted, and Sam was in a bed staring up at a ceiling while 'In Your Eyes' filtered through his open window. Sam wondered if he should wait a few moments before getting out of bed, just for authenticity's sake, but he proved too restless, and soon he was at the window, staring blatantly at the short archangel holding some giant boom box above his head.

"Gabriel," Sam breathed, and the golden-haired man let a smirk grace his features. Sam didn't even bother going out the door--he went straight out the window, contorting his body to fit through the gap, cursing Gabriel as he realized he was wearing a blue nightgown to match Diane Court's in the movie. Still, the anger was short-lived, because once he met Gabriel down on the grass he couldn't think beyond, "Why?"

Gabriel shot him a sad smile and snapped the ridiculous book box away. "C'mon, Sasquatch. Say Anything is a classic." Sam didn't speak, only lifted an eyebrow and let Gabriel continue with a sigh. "Would you believe it if I said that I didn't want to see you die?"

Sam shook his head, exhaling heavily. "I was okay with dying, Gabriel. I _am_ okay with dying."

The archangel's eyes flashed gold and dangerous. "And you don't think that's fucked up, Sam? Why are you okay with it? Why aren't you mad? You should--I can't--"

"Gabriel," Sam interrupted him, stepping forward. "You can't save me."

"I sorta did," He argued, but relented with another raise of Sam's eyebrows. "Okay, so I took you to one of my alternate dimensions, where the rules are different. Sue me. At least you aren't bleeding out."

Sam sighed. "Where's Dean?"

"Motel," Gabriel answered immediately. "He's worried. He doesn't want you to die."

"I know."

" _I_ don't want you to die."

"It's not up to you, Gabriel. It's been a long time coming," Sam said calmly, laying a hand on the archangel's cheek. "It's time for me to go."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Why are you comforting me? I'm not dying, idiot. You are."

Sam snorted. "Really? Wow. I wouldn't have guessed."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but sobered quickly. He put a hand on Sam's chest, and the hunter felt a twinge a pain, a reminder that he was not whole, that he wouldn't be okay if he weren't with Gabriel. "You sure about this?"

Sam smiled and said, "Tell Dean to take care of himself, would you?"

Gabriel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "See you soon, kiddo," He said, and Sam was back in the real world, and he was conscious for two and a half seconds before he was dead.

"I suppose you're dead for good this time, eh?" Death asked, not sounding particularly bothered, but his face revealed a fraction of a smile that betrayed his impartiality.

"We can hope," Sam replied, grinning, and allowed the tall man to grip his shoulder before disappearing in a soft, bright light that should've hurt his eyes but didn't.

\-------------

Dean died from a heart attack, of all things, at age sixty-two. He supposed Sam was right, that he really ought to have laid off the burgers and beer so much, but it was nice while it lasted, and it lasted a lot longer than he'd expected. Death greeted him like an old friend, with an eye roll and a, "Hurry up, would you? I don't exactly have leisure time."

Dean grinned, and followed eagerly.

He was expecting a dark field with fireworks. Or maybe his old house with pie in the oven. But instead he saw Sam, leaning comfortably against the Impala in the bright afternoon air, talking to Gabriel.

"Is he coming? You said he died. I don't know--"

"Sam," Dean breathed, and though he himself could barely hear it, Sam and Gabriel snapped their heads to face him, and a dimpled grin appeared on Sam's face like Moses parting the Red Sea, or something stupid like that, and Dean couldn't believe how much he'd missed that goofy, sappy expression of his. Dean totally didn't run across the field to where his brother stood, but he did pull his baby brother into a hug, burying his nose into his baby-soft hair that smelled like fancy girl shampoo.

"God," Dean said, feeling amazing. "I missed you, bitch."

Sam's eyes were soft and content and unhaunted by years of torment like they were on earth. "You too, jerk."

Gabriel, and soon Castiel, watched these incredible brothers with undisguised joy, and they both thought, _Yes, yes, this is what Heaven should be._


End file.
